I'm starting to think that I've been here before
by themarchgirl
Summary: who knows? Maybe I have. Carly/Freddie, for anysa. Rated for a teeny bit of language. Freddie-centric


**A/N: Hello, I wrote this for Anysa (SassySauce) as an early birthday present. Hope you like it! :) (and yes, I will start working on chapter 8 of _those summer weeks_, just bear with me.**

* * *

She offers him the other earphone, and their fingertips brush as he grasps it gently. They both appear to ignore the familiar jittering tingles and turn their heads away from each other. They listen in silence.

He glances from the corner of his eye, and he is _not _sweating, these are _not _butterflies from sitting so close to her, and he is _not _still in love with her.

.0.

When he hears that song again, he's sitting in the Groovy Smoothie, fists clenched as Carly flirts with the new employee over the counter.

He offered to go fetch them smoothies; clearly this is why she insisted on going instead.

When she returns she is clutching a small piece of paper in her hand, and through the red haze in his brain he is sure that he is _not _jealous.

.0.

She wears a short skirt on one of her dates, and he's seething and pining and he can't even look at her until she storms out of the door after he makes a nasty comment about her hair.

Okay, so maybe he is still a little bit (_a lot_) in love (_head over heels_) with her.

He waits for her to get home, and then he gives her five minutes (or himself, more likely) before racing out of his apartment and to her door.

He knocks almost desperately (he could never bear it if she was mad at him) and he sort of trips over his words when she opens the door.

"Hi, Carly, I know this is a bad time, but I just wanted to say that I'm _really _sorry about what I said before about your hair. It really doesn't look awful, I was just mad and I was actually thinking it looked really nice," he babbles, his heart rocketing against his ribcage. "I mean, you always look really beautiful but you look really lovely tonight. I'm just – I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, please don't hate me, I couldn't stand it if you did."

She bites her lip, and then throws her arms around his neck.

He clumsily wraps his arms around her waist, not entirely sure if she's still upset or if she's forgiven him and everything in his world is right again.

"Oh, Freddie, you're so _adorable_," she coos in his ear. "It's okay, really, don't you worry."

He frowns, puzzled. Did she just call him adorable...?

She pulls back and then ruffles his hair.

"I've got a little bit of homework, sorry, I need to finish it," she says, walking backwards to her door. "Goodnight, Freddie."

"Oh, right. Sure. Night," he replies quietly. She smiles at him (_wow_, his stomach really remembers how to do those flips) and waves before heading back into her apartment.

She thinks he's cute.

And not good cute.

Fabulous. Not.

.0.

He sulks in his room after his not-tick-bath, scowling at the wall.

"I'm not _cute._ I'm a man," he mutters crossly. "I'm a manly man. Manly men are not cute."

His mom bustles in then, twittering about something to do with parenting, as usual.

"...and it says you should call every hour, just to check your child is safe and happy," she chatters, hanging up his clothes and momentarily glaring at the old poster of Carly in his closet. "So you should inform your teachers that it's necessary for me to call you during class, okay?"

"Mom, can't you just text me? I promise to check my phone after every period," he moans, but she shakes her head.

"When you're talking to someone more emotions can be conveyed," she lectures. "So that covers the happy part."

He groans. "Mom, would you just _leave me alone_?"

She blinks.

"Mom, just – would it hurt not to treat me like a five-year-old all the time?"

She looks extremely confused.

"Mom, I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself," he tries. "You have to understand that you don't need to check up on me all the time. You make me think that you don't trust me to be safe."

"Freddie, I'm just being a mom," she says.

"None of my friends' moms make them take tick-baths, or have an eight pm curfew, or have to call you all day," he argues.

"Well, _clearly_ they aren't very good mothers," she bristles. "Now, I think I'll start calling at about nine, and then ten, and so on."

"No," he states. "No, I don't want you to call me."

"Freddie, enough of this nonsense –"

"No, Mom," he snaps. "Stop it, okay? _Stop it_. I'm just not in the mood for you and your stupid hovering."

She presses a hand to her heart. "Freddie!"

"I'm really tired," he says, his anger deflating a little. "I need to sleep."

She appears close to tears.

"Well, maybe you'll be more open-minded in the morning," she says. "Goodnight, Fredward."

He doesn't say anything as she leaves, and when he flops onto his bed he thinks that he might just be getting somewhere.

.0.

She's listening to music on her PearPhone the next morning at her locker, and he has to tug one earphone out of her ear for her to notice him.

"Hi," he says, smiling.

"Hey," she replies, and she looks so pretty and happy that he almost hugs her (but she's someone else's, so he clamps his arms to his side). "You look sort of...liberated."

"Yeah," he grins. "I yelled at my mom last night."

She laughs, and he could kiss her, really.

"What happened?" she asks breathlessly.

He explains it all to her, and she's moved closer and he can smell her lovely perfume and would it hurt at all to just reach out and touch her soft, soft cheek?

The bell goes as he finishes, and the moment is broken. She hoists her bag up on her shoulder and pats his arm before hurrying to her first class. He heads to his locker and tries to be fast, but his books tend to slip from his sweaty palms.

.0.

iCarly is brilliant that week, attracting over one-point-five-million viewers. Carly and Sam squeal and hug and it's not long before Carly's running at him and tugging his hand and kissing his jaw and he can't really breathe from the delight in his chest.

Sam even smacks his shoulder lovingly (it still hurts) and they dance around for an hour.

If he could do this little webshow with his best friends for the rest of his life, he'd die happy.

.0.

She kisses him (properly) by accident.

They're laughing on the roof of their building (he didn't know he was funny) and then she sort of almost falls.

He panics and grabs her and pulls them both backwards from the edge in such a way that her face is far too close to his.

She's breathing heavily and he realises that he might have just saved her life _again_, so, _fuck._

"Freddie," she whispers, even though she needn't be quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Am I heavy?"

He blinks.

"Um, no," he says quietly.

"Good," she replies, and starts to get off him. (He quite misses her there)

They silently and mutually decide to head inside, but he suddenly remembers his phone. He turns and bends to pick it up, and when he straightens she's a little too close.

Their mouths brush, and she grips his shirt and makes the accident on purpose.

He gasps against her kiss, his hands moving to her waist, and it's even better than it was before because now he can _hold_ her.

He can't hold her tight enough; she's pressed against him, her taste and smell fogging up his senses.

He wonders for a brief second if he's dreaming, but she feels so warm beneath his hands that she must be real.

When he finally pulls away she blinks for a second, and then her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes widen.

She's still holding onto his shirt.

He doesn't let her move from his embrace, even when she struggles.

"Carly, Carly, wait," he begs. "Please don't, please don't do this."

"But I kissed you," she cries shrilly.

"I kissed you too," he presses. "Carly, that was _amazing_, you can't just-"

"_Freddie_," she interrupts angrily. "I have a _boyfriend_."

And his heart hurts.

"Oh," he says quietly (so he has difficulty hearing himself). "I forgot about him."

Her eyes are filling with tears, and from the burning in his eyes he thinks he's about there too.

"Let me go," she says, her voice breaking. He slowly retracts his arms.

She bites her lip as something wet escapes from her eye, and she touches his face. He grits his teeth against the lump that's lodged itself in his throat.

"I should go home," she whispers, and he nods jerkily.

She stands on her tip-toes and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth, and this hurts, this fucking hurts.

"Goodnight," she mumbles, and she leaves him standing there on the roof of the blue building they both call home.

.0.

He doesn't really sleep; her panicked, _beautiful _eyes haunting him.

His mom has gained a slightly frosty approach to him after his outburst the other night, and she notices his weary features at breakfast the next morning but says nothing.

He takes the bus, noting Carly's puffy eyes and turning away before he starts to cry (again).

Sam regards them both warily, refraining from her usual abuse after seeing the look on his face.

It's second period when everything explodes.

.0.

They have to sit next to each other in English, and he attempts to pay attention to the teacher while Carly texts her boyfriend under the desk.

Maybe it's a good thing he watches her, because her brow becomes increasingly furrowed and her texting more frantic.

Eventually, lip trembling, she presses the off-button at the top of her phone and throws it into her bag, and then promptly bursts into tears.

The students whip round to stare at her, and the teacher turns from the board to peer at Carly.

"Carly? Carly, what on earth's the matter?"

But she's too upset to respond. Freddie swallows and tries to look at the teacher when he speaks to her.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Gatland, but she's really upset, maybe I should..." he isn't sure how to continue, but the teacher nods.

Freddie mutters his thanks, and then places his hand gently on Carly's shoulder.

"Carly, come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you out of here, okay? Come on."

She complies and stands up, her hands still locked over her mouth.

He ignores the stares and whispers of their classmates, and leads her out of the room.

.0.

He takes her to the main hallway where their lockers are, and sits her down on the bench.

"Carly, what's wrong?" he asks, gripping her shoulders.

She's calmed down a little, and manages to say something that makes his blood boil.

"Greg," she splutters through her tears. "He cheated on me, and he dumped me by _text message_."

"He did _what_?" he exclaims. "Oh, Carly, what a jerk."

She buries her face in her hands again, her shoulders shaking.

"I can't believe I liked him," she wails.

"Carly," he says quietly, tenderly. "Carly, I know you feel stupid right now."

She nods. "I'm _so_-"

"No, you're not," he denies vehemently. "He's stupid for making such a huge mistake and screwing it up with such an amazing person."

She looks at him.

"Why are you so wonderful to me?" she asks softly, her tears almost gone.

He shrugs. "It's not hard to be wonderful to you," he says.

She stares at him, and then leans in and presses a quick kiss to his mouth.

"Thank you," she whispers.

He gives her a lop-sided grin, and grabs her hand.

"Do you want to get ice-cream after school?" he asks suddenly, his brain telling his mouth to blurt that out without any warning.

She goes pink, but nods, and she's so beautiful that he has to kiss her again.


End file.
